


Kick start my heart

by TheRedPalaaladin (Thighz)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Best Friends, But it's okay, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Shiro's bad with relationships, Weddings, and feelings, it's their wedding, mild adurtis, pining shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/TheRedPalaaladin
Summary: But - in tiny letters at the very bottom - right below that promise of free booze -  are the dreaded square boxes asking the most anxiety inducing question Shiro will ever have to answer:SinglePlus One





	Kick start my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sheithlentines, Shipnuggets!
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

Shiro stares down at the heavy cardstock wedding invitation held between his metal and flesh fingers. 

It’s modern in style, with loopy cursive letters boasting the names, date, time and location for the event. There are intricate golden flowers around the edge and a seperate slip of paper promising an open bar.

But - in tiny letters at the very bottom - right below that promise of free booze -  are the dreaded square boxes asking the most anxiety inducing question Shiro will ever have to answer:

  * Single
  * Plus One



 

His thumb twitches beside the box and he prays the man hovering in front of his desk doesn’t catch it.

“Congratulations?” Shiro gives said man a questioning stare, “Why are you inviting me to your wedding?”

Adam straightens his glasses - a habit Shiro used to remember fondly - and clears his throat. He’s not dressed in his work attire today, meaning this was a purely satisfactual visit, not an official one. He didn’t come up from the sixth floor to hand out invitations to random people. He went out of his way to come up to Shiro - his  _ bosses _ \- office on his day off, to present the wedding invitation.

“You’re the boss and you’re the reason we met.” Adam’s tone is crisp, “It’s only right we invite you to our special day.”

Shiro frowns, “This is petty, even for you.” He waves the invitation through the air, “Does Curtis know you’re giving me this?”

“It’s just an invitation, Takashi.” He says in the same tone he’d said ‘ _ It’s just a job, Takashi. Plenty more will come along just like it _ ’ the day before they went their separate ways in the company and their romance life.

‘ _ Just an invitation _ ’, his ass.

Shiro clenches his teeth, “I’ll be there.” Then turns to face his computer in an attempt to get Adam out of his office.

“Do you want to RSVP now or will you have your assistant bring it to me later?” Adam asks casually.

Shiro can feel his eyebrow threatening to twitch, “Does it matter? I just said yes.”

“Are you coming alone?”

And there it was. The real reason he’s being invited to the wedding. Not because he’s ‘the boss’ or ‘an old friend’, but because it’s a giant ‘ _ we’re happier together than when either of us were with you _ ’ slap in the face.

Shiro reaches across the desk for a pen, holds Adam’s gaze as he clicks it open and puts a bright red check mark in the ‘Plus One’ box.

Shiro gives him a tight smile.

Adam takes the slip of RSVP paper from Shiro’s outstretched fingers. His face gives nothing away and Shiro hopes his own is just as casually unwavering. He leaves Shiro’s office with one last raised glance over his shoulder.

When the door clicks shut Shiro slumps back into his desk chair and stares up at the ceiling in horror.

What did he just agree to?

  
  
  


-

  
  


The only good thing about the whole day is that it’s Friday. And Friday means Shiro’s done pushing papers around for the week and he gets to reward himself by going out with his best friend.

It’s a weekly tradition, one that they’ve held fast throughout their entire lives. Even if they see each other multiple times during the week, (see: Keith is always laid up on Shiro’s couch or vice versa) they never deviate from Friday night tradition. Though, now that they’re older, they prefer to tuck themselves into a corner booth at Sal’s bar.

Keith is looking particularly devastating tonight in a dark leather jacket, hair tied out of his face, and chin resting in his hand as he listens to Shiro rant. He’s nursing something amber and iced in a glass, fingers encased in the gloves Shiro bought for his birthday last year.

Shiro can feel himself leaning towards tipsy, “It feels like a trap.”

Keith taps a finger against the rim of his glass, “Sounds like Adam just wants to rub it in your face. Which yea, might be trap.”

Shiro groans.

“You really gotta stop dating the prissy types.” Keith says.

Shiro sniffs, “I don’t have a  _ type _ .”

“Yes you do.” Keith points at him, “They wear glasses and sweater vests and  _ smile _ like sharks and for some reason you like that.” He waves a hand.

Shiro slumps over his beer.

He doesn’t  _ like _ that.

He liked the false comfort they gave. The ‘settle down’ vibes that meant Shiro came home to someone and he didn’t feel like such a workaholic. It never worked, of course. They wanted more attention. They didn’t like his hours, despite working in the same building as him. That kind of comfort was unsustainable in Shiro’s life.

“You need to stop dating your employees.”

“They weren’t employees at the time.” Shiro grumbles, “I wasn’t the boss yet.”

Keith smirks, “Is that your kink?”

“ _ No. _ ” Shiro’s hand wavers drunkenly as he points at Keith, “Don’t continue.”

Keith’s laugh is rich and smokey. He takes a sip from the glass, finishing off his drink, “I’ll get the next round.” He pushes out of the booth and the motion is fluid and agile. The way Keith moves has always stirred something dark in Shiro’s belly.

Shiro’s vision is murky as he watches Keith part the crowd to get to the bar.

Shiro  _ does _ have a type.

But it’s not men like Adam and Curtis.

It’s long, dark hair, the smell of clove, leather motorcycle jackets and fingerless gloves tugging him through life. It’s sneaking out to stargaze while their parents are sleeping and 3 am burgers and shakes after neither of them go to prom.

His type is  _ Keith. _

Who blazes through life like a comet.

And who is so hopelessly out of Shiro’s reach.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Shiro drags his gaze up from the table and squints at Keith, who has returned with a beer for Shiro, a cup of water, and another amber-filled tumblr. He slides back into his side of the booth easily.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks.

“For the wedding.”

“Well, I have to go.” Shiro sighs dramatically, “But I may or may not have checked the plus one box out of spite.”

“ _ Shiro _ .” Keith admonishes.

Shiro throws up his hands, “He started it. He was  _ asking _ for me to prove that I was still single and miserable.”

“See,  _ that _ was a trap.” Keith rolls his eyes.

“I know.” Shiro puts his face on the table, it smells like stale booze and chilli cheese fries, “What do I do?”

“Why are asking me?” Keith snorts, “I throw wedding invitations in the trash. You got yourself into this mess.”

Shiro knows that. His pride blindsided him and now he’s stuck a week before his ex boyfriend’s wedding with no date and no hope. He supposes he could show up alone and make a ‘my plus one got sick’ excuse. But Adam would see right through him. Curtis would take it with a gentle smile and a ‘ _ Give them our regards, Takashi _ ’, but Adam wouldn’t ever let him forget about it.

Which is why he needs to find a date.

Someone who can play the part.

Someone who knows Shiro well enough to follow his cues.

Someone like -

“I guess I can find someone to pretend to be my date.” Shiro turns his head, squishing his cheek against the table and staring up at Keith.

Keith is quiet for a moment as a pinched look passes over his face, “No.”

“Yes.” Shiro jerks up, “Please.”

Keith points a finger at him, “No. I’ll do a lot of things for you Shiro, but no weddings. No.”

“Keith.” Shiro slips out from his side of the booth. He stumbles a bit, because yes, he is in fact a little too drunk to be walking.

Keith stares at him dubiously, “Shiro.”

Shiro picks up a napkin from the table and fiddles with it between his hands until it’s in some semblance of a round shape. He twists the edges until they’re thin and pinches them together with the condensation from his beer bottle.

Keith is watching him with a suspicious, pointed gaze which slowly turns into red-faced mortification when Shiro drops down on one knee.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Keith’s hands grip his shoulders in an attempt to try and yank him to his feet.

Shiro is a tank though and merely gives Keith a drunken grin before presenting him with the makeshift napkin ring.

“Will you, Keith, accompany me, Shiro -.” He hiccups, “To the wedding of my estranged ex boyfriend to my other ex boyfriend?”

Keith huffs in defeat, “This is a bad idea, you know.”

“It’s a  _ great _ idea.” Shiro paws at Keith’s hand and tries to put the napkin over one of his gloved fingers.

“Sure it is, big guy.” Keith’s face is strange as he stares down at the ring. He sends Shiro a muted smile, “Let’s get you home.”

  
  
  


-

  
  


It is not a great idea.

Shiro comes to that realization while he’s starfished on his bed the next morning nursing a hangover and regret. He can smell bacon and hear the sound of his little coffee maker chugging through a brew. The sink is running, which means Keith is done cooking and has already started on the dishes.

It’s all a familiar symphony of sounds on a Saturday morning. Except this morning they come with a different sort of weight.

The crushing weight of realizing he did in fact ask his best friend to pretend to be his date for a wedding in an attempt to not look like a sad, single loser in front of not one, but  _ two _ of his exes.

Shiro stares up at the ceiling and contemplates his life choices.

“Hungry?”

Keith’s voice drags Shiro’s gaze away from the badly painted ceiling of his bedroom. Something twists in Shiro’s belly at the sight of Keith wearing a pair of his boxers and an old faded grey nasa shirt.

“I’ll take death over food.” Shiro groans.

Keith rolls his eyes, “You’re so dramatic. Get up. If we’re really doing this, I’ll need something nice to wear and today is my only day off.” He disappears through the door, no doubt returning to the kitchen.

Shiro huffs out a sigh and rolls over to climb out of bed. He sits up for a second, fighting a wave of hangover induced nausea before wobbling in the direction of the bathroom.

He showers, digs a few advil out of the medicine cabinet, and gets dressed just in time slip into the kitchen and pull his breakfast out of the microwave.

Keith is putting up the dishes when he arrives.

Shiro munches on the bacon and leans against the counter as he watches Keith lean down to the bottom cabinet to return the frying pan. The shirt is just a smidge too big on him, which gives Shiro the perfect view of a delicate nipple peeking through the collar opening.

His mouth waters at the thought of putting his mouth to it. Dragging up the hem of that shirt and crowding Keith against the counter and leaving purple marks all over his chest.

Shiro’s stomach grumbles with a new sort of hunger that not even bacon can satisfy.

“I don’t suppose I can just show up in what I normally wear?” Keith wrinkles his nose.

Shiro lifts an eyebrow, “As amusing as Adam’s face would be seeing you show up to his wedding in motorcycle gear - we should probably stick to formal clothes.”

Keith’s shoulders sink, “Great.”

“You can always back out.” Shiro laughs and crumbles the bacon nervously between his forefinger and thumb, “It was a dumb idea.”

Keith gives him a look, “You thought it was a  _ great _ idea last night.”

Shiro grumbles around a mouthful of bacon, “I was drunk.”

Keith appears in front of him, lips pulled down into a frown, “Why do you want to prove you have a date so badly?”

Shiro sighs, “Do you know they told me the exact same thing when they broke up with me?” He sets his now empty plate on the counter.

“I thought you and Adam broke up because of the job?”

“Part of it was that.” Shiro chews on the inside of his cheek, debating, “But I’m talking about their last words when they moved out of my apartment. After the fighting was over and they finished packing their things.”

Keith tilts his head, “Okay. What did they say?”

“ ‘You’re never going to be happy if you keep settling for second best.’ “ Shiro drags a hand through his hair, “Which made me feel horrible, because now I spend all of my time wondering if I treated them less than what they deserved.”

Keith’s brow furrows, “Sometimes people just don’t connect, Shiro.”

“Twice in a row?” Shiro lowers his voice, “With the same words thrown back in my face?”

Keith crosses his arms over his chest, looking contemplative and far too domestic standing in Shiro’s kitchen wearing his clothes, “Are you? Settling?” He stares up at Shiro, “Are they right?”

“Of course not!” Shiro hisses.

That makes it sound like he was just using them as a temporary step in the road of his chaotic life. It’s shallow and unbecoming and Shiro always went into his relationships with the intent to keep them forever. Except, he was bad at maintaining them. Keeping the grass green. He works too much and he prefers to spend his off time listening to Keith read out the schematics for the ships he designs.

He never consider it settling.

He considered it easy and comfortable.

Because the other option was diving headfirst into admitting he’s been in love with Keith the better part of their lives. It was knowing that Keith was the only person in the world to spark Shiro’s fire and keep it smoldering for days.

Keith is  _ everything _ . Keith is his rock and his best friend and the greatest love of Shiro’s life.

Which is why Shiro never considered it  _ settling _ for second best.

It was  _ avoiding _ the possibility of a broken heart.

Because if Shiro took that dive and Keith wasn’t there to catch him, Shiro would never be able to recover.

“I’m just bad at relationships.” Shiro heaves a ragged sigh.

Keith’s hand curls around Shiro’s arm and his face is earnest, “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“Will I ever?” Shiro whispers helplessly.

_ Will it ever be anyone but you? _

“You will.” Keith assures with a squeeze of his hand, “Now, let’s go find me something nice to wear.” A smirk ticks at the corner of his mouth, “I want to try and outdo the grooms.”

Shiro bursts out with a laugh, covers his mouth, “That’s terrible. We shouldn’t.”

Keith’s grin just widens.

Shiro leans forward with a matching one, “Let’s do it.”

  
  


-

  
  
  


Shiro’s been in love with Keith since high school.

See, he’s always  _ loved _ Keith. They grew up three houses down from one another and went to the same schools from pre-k all the way to high school. They spent weekends in pillow forts and laid out on their stomachs in front of Keith’s tiny TV playing video games. Keith was there when Shiro’s parents died and when Shiro twisted his hands together in a nervous attempt to admit that he was gay. He’s been there for all of Shiro’s ups and downs and break ups and everything that goes in between.

So, of course Shiro loved Keith.

He just didn’t realize he was  _ in _ love with him until Shiro’s date dumped him three days before senior prom.

Keith, ever the knight in shining armor all of Shiro’s life, told him to return his expensive tux and rip the corsage apart and skip prom altogether.

And that’s what they did.

They took Keith’s banger of a jeep and drove out to the park and watched the stars well into the night. They planned out their entire lives right there, in the dewy grass on a chilly february evening, under the protections of the stars.

Then, they got milk shakes and burgers and stumbled up the stairs to Keith’s bedroom just in time for curfew.

It wasn’t until they were curled up in Keith’s bed and Keith was fast asleep, fist curled against his chin and looking so ethereal in the moonlight - that Shiro’s heart squeezed. He’d pressed shaking fingers to Keith’s cheek, heart hammering and throat burning, and wondered what he was going to do now that he knew.

The answer had been ‘nothing’.

-

  
  
  


The day of the wedding arrives sooner than Shiro likes. 

He nearly backs out of going completely while staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. His black and silver dress shirt looks unironed, his pants are just a smidge too tight around his thighs, his bangs just won’t cooperate. He calls it a lost cause and debates texting Keith to not even bother getting dressed because Shiro doesn’t know if he wants to be spiteful anymore.

Except, he can hear Keith’s keys jingle in the lock and the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Shiro gives himself one last frustrated look in the mirror before wandering out to meet Keith.

He has to take a moment to pause when he rounds the corner between bedroom and living room. His heart does a little flip inside his chest as Keith turns to face him.

Keith looks -  _ amazing. _

He’s dressed up in the dark red shirt they bought him the weekend before, sleeves buttoned and rolled up to his elbows. His hair is slicked back, putting the sharp, delicate lines of his face on full display. He is without a doubt - the most beautiful man Shiro has ever had the pleasure of looking at.

Shiro feels the smile take over his face, “You look great, Keith.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow, “Just great? I thought we were going for better than the grooms?”

“Better than great.” Shiro corrects, struggling to find the words to describe how breathtaking Keith looks without giving himself away, “Outstanding. Good. Handsome.” He coughs and can feel the flush rising up his neck.

“Uh - thanks.” Keith gives him a curious look, “You ready?”

It’s at that moment that Shiro stops being overwhelmed by Keith’s beauty long enough to notice that Keith is carrying not one, but two helmets.

Shiro holds up a finger, “No.”

Keith wiggles them in Shiro’s direction, “I’ll drive very, very carefully. We should arrive in style.”

“They won’t even be outside to see us arrive.” Shiro shakes his head fondly and reaches out to take his own helmet.

“No, but there will be other people there to see us.” Keith shakes his motorcycle keys enticingly. The little red lion charm Shiro bought Keith for christmas sways with the motion, “Word will get back that you arrived with a bad boy on a bike.”

Shiro huffs and heads for the door, “You’re not  _ bad _ .”

Keith follows, shoving his shoulder into Shiro’s bicep with a smirk, “Don’t tell anyone that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

They laugh together while Shiro locks up his apartment, then descend down the stairs to the front of the building.

Keith’s bike is sitting out on the curb in visitor parking, a simple little crotch rocket with a chipped red paint job and worn leather seats. It brings back memories of all the numerous times Shiro hopped on the back and let Keith take him on an adventure.

And Keith was always up for an adventure.

Be it Keith’s own turmoil demanding a break from life or Shiro needing an escape from his demanding job.

Shiro climbs on the back behind Keith, situating his helmet on his head and making sure no parts of his clothes will get caught anywhere. The bike roars to life under them, sending tingles down Shiro’s legs. He grips Keith’s waist, excitement blooming as Keith sends a look over his shoulder.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Shiro takes a deep breath, “Let’s go show off.”

Keith’s laugh gets lost as they pull out into the street.

  
  


-

  
  


They arrive ten minutes before the wedding starts and Keith’s bike turns a few heads as they find a parking spot between two skittle-colored cars. Shiro stands, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt and pants while Keith straps their helmets to the bike and pockets the keys.

There’s a stern-looking elderly woman at the front of the venue weilding a clipboard in one hand and a hefty glass of champagne in the other, “Names.” She takes a sip from the glass.

“Takashi Shirogane and plus one.” Shiro replies with a little wave to Keith.

Her eyes dart down to the clipboard, then back up, “Enjoy the wedding.” She waves it in the direction of the seats beyond.

Shiro puts a hand in the dip of Keith’s back, “Thank you.”

They enter the building and it’s already filled with relatives and friends. The room is decorated in pale blues and greys, with lilies lining the aisles and lattice alter archway. It’s all very simple and elegant and reminds Shiro of his life with them.

Muted. Dull.

There’s a little sign-in book to their right, a picture of Adam and Curtis on their engagement day right beside it.

Shiro notes it’s the happiest Curtis has ever looked.

He’d never smiled at  _ Shiro _ that way.

Keith twirls the pen to the book between his fingers, before biting his lip and leaning over the book to carve their names into the page.

Next, they find a pair of seats near the middle of the seating arrangement and settle in for the long haul.

“The colors make me sleepy.” Keith grunts from his right.

Shiro chuckles, “Neither of them were very exciting individuals.” He pats Keith’s thigh, “Which wasn’t a bad thing, not really. I enjoyed it.”

Keith sends him a look, “You enjoyed it?”

“Sure.” Shiro shrugs, “Being with them was comfortable and easy. Sometimes that’s just what you need in life.”

“ _ Is _ it what you needed?” Keith asks in a low whisper, “Or did you convince yourself of that?”

Shiro blinks down at him, but he doesn't get to say anything else. The music swells to life around them and the wedding begins.

It’s a lovely ceremony. Curtis looks stunning in his white tux and blue shirt and tie. Adam went for the traditional black and white ensemble, but he still looks as handsome as ever. Even more so when he gather’s Curtis’ hands between his own and they say their vows.

Everything about it is simple and traditional.

The vows are standard and the preacher drones on, but there’s undeniable excitement on both of their faces.

Shiro knows, deep down, that he could never have settled for this.

He wants more out of pledging his life to another, than just traditional vows.

He wants saturday morning, hangover induced breakfasts and the roar of a motorcycle engine between his legs. He wants exciting dreams told from foggy breath in a field under the stars. He wants -

“I can’t wait for the cake.” Keith mumbles, arms crossed over his chest.

Shiro casts his gaze down at his best friend, who looks heartbreakingly handsome in the clothes they picked out to one-up his exes. Keith gives him a side eye and a raised brow in question, but Shiro just smiles and squeezes his thigh, “Soon.”

“Better be champagne flavored.” Keith threatens.

“If it’s not, then we’ll stop and get you some.” Shiro presses his nose into Keith’s temple with a low laugh. Someone shushes them a row back.

Keith snorts, “Promise?”

“Of course.”

“ - pronounce you husband and husband, you may kiss your groom.”

Applause erupts around them, a few people sniffle and one person whistles as Adam tips Curtis’ chin up for a chaste kiss.

They turn to the crowd and bow.

Shiro doesn’t miss when Adam spots them. Surprise takes over for a hair of a second and only someone who knew Adam as well as Shiro once did would have noticed. His eyes flick to Keith and the recognition is there.

But there’s a furrow forming between those stern brows.

“I don’t think he believes we’re here together.” Shiro swallows thickly.

“Why not?” Keith asks as the grooms walk down the aisle to the back of the venue to get ready for the reception.

“I know Adam.” Shiro grumbles, “He’ll think I brought you as a friend.”

“So?” Keith shrugs, “We can always just be a little more handsy.”

Shiro slumps in his chair, “Or we can just stick to being friends.” He drops his head back with a groan, “I’ll just take the shot to my pride. I’m single and that’s just a fact.”

“Just friends.” Keith’s voice sounds off, but it must be Shiro’s imagination because his next words are casual, “If you’re sure.”

The rest of the room starts to rise and move in the direction of the reception hall. Shiro stands first and puts out a hand out to help Keith rise from his seat. The hand is warm and fits perfectly in Shiro’s, but he pulls it free before Shiro can really enjoy it.

When they get into the hall, Keith makes a beeline for the food and Shiro goes in search of the promised open bar. He gets two glasses of champagne and a shot of something strong to chase away the unease building in the pit of his stomach.

That unease turns over into nausea when he twists around to look for Keith and comes face to face with Adam instead.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Adam says.

“It would be in poor taste for me not to.” Shiro can still taste the burn of hard liquor on his tongue, “It was a wonderful ceremony, Adam.” His fingers squeeze around the stem of the glasses, “I really am happy for the two of you.”

Adam’s shoulders relax, “I suppose I was being petty.” He adjusts his glasses, “We didn’t exactly split on good terms and a part of me wished to get back at you.”

“I was a shit boyfriend.” Shiro admits softly.

Adam tilts his head, “Perhaps, though I do hope you’re not being one with Keith.”

Shiro’s skin prickles, because despite the makeshift apology laying between them, he has a feeling this could be another trap. But, he made up his mind in the other room and he’s not going to keep lying just to save face.

“Actually -.”

A hand comes out of nowhere and glides up his forearm to his bicep, “Shiro. I was lookin’ for you.” Keith’s voice sends Shiro’s heart racing. His fingers strong and grounding around Shiro’s arm.

“I got us some champagne.” Shiro offers him a glass.

Keith takes it with a sidelong glance at Adam, “Hey.”

“It’s been a while, Keith.” Adam nods at him, “I had no idea you two were finally seeing one another.”

Panic floods Shiro’s chest as Keith’s eyebrows draw together, “Finally?”

“We aren’t -.” Shiro tries.

“I mean - it took some time.” Keith breaks in, “But Shiro always drags his feet when it comes to his emotions.”

“Ha.” An actual smile breaks across Adam’s face as he turns it from Keith to Shiro, “That is very true.”

Shiro flushes, “I’m not a complete emotional failure.”

Adam hums, “Well, if you finally managed to get your head out of your ass and ask Keith out, then I suppose not.”

Keith snorts, “I asked him.”

“We all get what we want in the end.” Adam nods.

Someone calls out his name and he turns his head, squinting into the distance, “Ah. I must go.” He waves to Curtis, who is waiting near the dance floor for the first dance, “My new husband awaits.”

He walks away and the crowd parts for him with joyful shouts.

Shiro chugs the whole glass of champagne, then grabs Keith’s and does the same with it.

“Whoa.” Keith blinks, “Slow down.”

Shiro sets the glass down on a nearby table before he accidentally shatters it with his prosthetic, “I was going to tell him we were here as friends.”

Keith glances away, “You looked like you were having trouble getting it out. So.” He rubs at his elbow nervously, “Sorry.”

Shiro deflates, “Don’t be.” He moves into Keith’s space, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I should have just declined the invitation.”

“Why?” Keith asks.

“Because I didn’t think I’d feel -.” He waves his hands in front of his heart, “This defeated being here.”

He looks over at Curtis and Adam, sharing their first dance together.

“They’re clearly happy and I’m happy for them.” Shiro says earnestly, “They deserve to be happy and not stuck with someone like me, who isn’t brave enough to just -.” He growls in frustration, “Make an effort to keep the fire going.”

Keith scowls, “It has to go both ways, Shiro.”

“I know.” Shiro says, “But what if they were trying and I was just too focused on something else?”

Too focused on Keith. Too focused on wanting to wake up beside Keith. Too focused on wanting to pour out the 7 years worth of affection and longing he’s kept bottled up.

“I could have given them everything I held back.” Shiro’s voice cracks, “But I didn’t think they deserved it. Because -.”

Keith’s gaze softens, “Because?”

“Because -.” Shiro can feel his hands twitching and the song in the background is crooning and beautiful and perfect for a first dance, “I felt it belonged to someone else.”

The admission feels like a relief.

Keith’s eyes practically shimmer in the dim light of the reception hall, “Shiro -.”

“They were right.” Shiro whispers, “When they told me I was settling for second best.” He lifts a hand slowly, intending to cup Keith’s face, “Keith, I -.”

Keith steps closer and something on his face tells Shiro he’s waiting.

Shiro’s starting to lose traction, because the first dance is coming to an end and if he doesn’t do this now - he may never be this brave again.

“Keith, I -.” He takes a shaky breath, “Keith, you’re - you’re  _ everything _ .”

Keith’s eyes go wide and the gasp is nearly indecipherable, but the parting of his lips gives it away.

And Shiro, standing in the middle of his exes wedding, wants nothing more than to kiss his best friend.

Keith beats him to it. 

His hands fist in the fabric of Shiro’s shirt and he yanks Shiro down into a kiss that melts him down to the bone. Light explode across Shiro’s vision, but that could just be the strobe lights from the married couples dance going on a few feet away.

He groans into the kiss, splaying his hands at the base of Keith’s throat and spilling every ounce of love he has into this first meeting of lips.

Keith makes a wounded sound in his throat as his grip pulls tighter and his body lines up with Shiro’s.

“Idiot.” Keith breaks free with a gasp, “This is the worst place for you to finally get your head out of your ass and confess.” 

“I haven’t actually said anythi - mmf.” Keith kisses him again.

Shiro sighs into the chaos of it all, heart near to bursting.

Keith breaks free again, “Take me home, Takashi.” He sucks at Shiro’s bottom lip and Shiro feels himself go cross-eyed at the sensation, “No - I drove us here - I’ll take us home -.” The hands in his shirt are pulling him forward.

Shiro wants Keith’s mouth back.

He notes that Keith is pulling them to the exit, “Wait - we didn’t get you any cake -.”

“Don’t care about cake.” Keith hisses, “You can buy me a whole cake for  _ our _ wedding.”

Shiro laughs and the sound comes out giddy as he willingly allows Keith to drag him by his shirt to the exit, “Okay.”

  
  


-

  
  
  


Shiro wakes up warm, a tad bit sore. He spreads his limbs out across the bed as he stretches and it doesn’t take long to notice that he’s completely naked under the covers.

A silly grin spreads across his face.

“Hungry?”

Keith’s voice drags Shiro’s gaze away from the ceiling.

He’s wearing that old, faded grey nasa shirt again. It’s wide at the collar and nearly hangs off one of his shoulders. There aren’t any sweatpants this time, Keith’s legs are bare and there’s an eighty percent chance Keith is just as naked as Shiro under that shirt.

Shiro rumbles happily, “You’re up early.”

“Made breakfast.” Keith walks across the room and puts a knee up on the bed before leaning over Shiro to steal a kiss, “Are you hungry?”

Oh, Shiro’s hungry alright.

He reaches out with a hand and drags it up the length of Keith’s thigh. It pushes up the shirt and the flesh grows warmer the higher Shiro ventures. He runs his thumb across the heated skin of Keith’s inner thigh and watches those beautiful eyes darken.

“I should make you wait.” Keith huffs, “I worked hard on it.”

Shiro moves a hand between his legs, enjoying the heavy, weighted heat of him growing between his fingers, “You won’t.”

Keith shivers, lips pursing together and eyes fluttering shut, “Ah - ah - after -.” His legs clench together around Shiro’s hand, “It’ll get cold.”

“Can I feed you?” Shiro asks, thumbing over the leaking tip.

Keith nods, eyes cracking open.

“Fair warning,” He drops his hand to squeeze Keith’s thigh again, “I’m fucking you over the counter the second we’re done.”

Keith grins, “I can work with that.”   
  
  


 

 

 

End

  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Join me on twitter](https://twitter.com/blackpalaladin)


End file.
